morning shadows in the scarlett elf cup

–– Caroline Skanne

early May
already the bluebells
shrivelling

— Erica Ison

already
I should be up —
the weight of a cat

— Aron Rothstein

Feeding the Black Dog

Another day, and the snow is falling halfheartedly, like everything else. The terror of death got Dr. Johnson out of bed in the morning; Larkin, his three glasses of supermarket wine. Why continue doing this, that or the other? Why not.  

homestretch
running
on fumes

— Ruth Holzer